


All that's left is a ghost of you

by JamieDragon



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Awesome Roach (The Witcher), First Kiss, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Ghosts, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Poisoning, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sickfic, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieDragon/pseuds/JamieDragon
Summary: Something is haunting Geralt, and he is overcome with grief at the realization of whose ghost it is that keeps following him. Determined to find his bard and give him a proper funeral, Geralt starts following the few clues he has. But maybe there's still a chance to save Jaskier...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 398





	All that's left is a ghost of you

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably not how stuff works. I'm not very familiar at all with The Witcher lore, so I mostly looked up things in the wiki and then took some artistic liberties so it suited my needs. Hopefully nothing is so wrong that it pulls people from the story.
> 
> (Title from "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men)
> 
> Thank you for reading. ♡

It started with the cup of water.

No. That was wrong. It started with the dream. The water was what pulled him from it.

Geralt couldn't remember exactly what the dream had been about. He had been running from something, had been scared and in pain. But running from what? He didn't know. Maybe he would have been able to see what it was, if not for the water waking him.

The cup had been standing on the small table next to the bed, half filled with water and waiting for the morning. Geralt was sure it hadn't been close enough to the edge to risk falling, but he must have moved more than usual, caught in the nightmare, because somehow the cup had tipped over, waking him as he was splashed with its content. Annoying, but since it had been a nightmare, it might have been for the best. He simply put on a dry shirt before starting to pack up his things.

That, however, took longer than usual, as he had to spend several long minutes searching for one of his favourite knives. He was sure he had put it with the other weapons, because where else would he put it?, but it wasn't there. After searching the whole room twice, he found it. Laying on the table, just as he had thought it would. Shaking his head, he stuck the knife in his belt. And as he left the town, he was still annoyed at himself. He must really have been more tired than he realized.

The next thing was… stranger. He was used to Roach having her own opinions, but she usually let him have his way. Not this time though.

Around midday, they reached a fork in the road. Geralt intended to follow the right path, but Roach simply refused. No amount of coaxing or threatening (though it was hardly more than empty threats) could persuade her. She nickered in protest, danced on the spot as he tried to get her to move, and at one time almost threw him off.

In the end, there wasn't much Geralt could do. So they took the smaller left path, both settling into annoyed silence as they continued on.

As the day progressed, Geralt started having the feeling of being watched, followed. Several times he looked over his shoulder, or stopped to listen for any pursuers or monsters. But there was never anything there.

Although…

When he closed his eyes and really focused, he could almost make out a voice. It was no more than a whisper, too faint for him to be able to understand what it said. And as he opened his eyes again and saw the movement of the trees, he realized it was just the wind whispering among the leaves. No voice. 

And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling.

That night, he had the dream again. This time, it was a bit clearer too. He was in a forest, and he was running. Panic forcing his feet to continue forward, even though his whole body seemed to shake with… Pain? Fear? Simple exhaustion? He wasn't sure.

Something crashed through the bushes behind him, far too close and far too big. As it came into view he could make out it's shiny body, it's many legs, it's venomous jaws. He tried to scream, but his body was too exhausted to make a sound.

He could feel his feet getting heavier. He wouldn't be able to run much further. When he fell, scraping hands and knees on stones hidden among the moss on the forest floor, he wasn't sure he would be able to get up again.

Ahead of him was darkness, an opening in the hill, and he aimed for it. Forcing himself back on unsteady legs, he used what little strength he had left to reach the opening, and he pushed himself through it. He barely had time to make out the small cave around him before he collapsed to the floor, unable to move.

_ Help _

_ Please  _

_ Help me _

Geralt woke up gasping, hand reaching for his sword before he had even opened his eyes.

But there was no one there. Just the dying fire, and Roach who stood nearby, looking at him, clearly still agitated.

"Fuck." Dropping the sword again, he pulled a tired hand through his hair. "What's wrong with me?"

It was hardly the first time he had a nightmare. Becoming a witcher was difficult, to say the least, and now and again the memories of that process haunted his dreams.

But this felt… different somehow. It had seemed vivid and real enough to be a memory, but he was sure he had never seen that cave before. Hell, he wasn't sure he had even seen that creature before. The closest he could get was an arachas, but not exactly. Maybe an arachas changed and warped by the nightmare, or the overwhelming panic which had been filling him.

There had been other strange things too. Why had he been running, when he was used to fighting much worse creatures? And he had desperately wished for someone else to be there, with him. Saving him?

Geralt shook his head, once again pulling a hand through his tangled hair. A hand… His hands… Looking down at them, he realized something else that had been strange in the dream. The hands he had seen when he fell hadn't been his own. They had been a bit smaller, more delicate. And still they had seemed so familiar.

The same went for the voice he had heard, just before he woke up. It had sounded familiar, but so far away that he hadn't been able to make it out completely.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the memory of that voice, as he tried to remember why he so clearly recognised it.

_...lp… _

_...ralt… _

_...pl...s… _

His eyes snapped open when he realized that the voice he heard wasn't in his head, in his memory. He was able to hear it now! Or… he  _ had _ been able to hear it now. As soon as he opened his eyes it seemed to disappear again, becoming one with the rustling of the leaves.

But it was with a feeling of dread he also realized he was pretty sure who the voice belonged to.

He only hesitated a moment before getting his bag of potions, taking just a small sip to momentarily enhance his senses. Closing his eyes again, he hoped he was wrong about the voice. It could only mean bad things if it actually belonged to who he thought.

But as he once again picked up the sound, he no longer had any doubts. So very faint, and hidden among the sounds of the forest, was Jaskier's voice. And even as quiet as it was, Geralt could detect the trembling fear in it.

_ Geralt please  _

_ Help me  _

_ Please  _

"Jaskier?" He wasn't even sure if the bard would be able to hear him too, but the words came before he had time to think about that. "Where are you? What's happened?"

_ Geralt? _

He sounded surprised, as if he hadn't thought he would be heard. 

_ Please  _

_ It hurts  _

"Where are you?" He tried not to sound angry. 

_ Forest  _

_ Cave _

_ So cold _

_ Hurts _

"Jaskier! I need to know where you are!"

_ Please  _

_ Cold _

_ Here _

"Here?" Though he knew Jaskier wasn't in the camp, Geralt still opened his eyes to look around.

No one. Just like before. Just Roach, who was still looking at him. No, not  _ at _ him. Looking  _ past _ him.

Geralt turned his head to follow her gaze. Even with his enhanced senses it took him several long moments before he saw anything. And even when he did, he wasn't sure he wasn't just imagining. There was a shape there, among the trees. But it was no more solid than smoke in the wind, barely detectable in the darkness.

_ It hurts  _

_ Geralt  _

"Jaskier…" He felt the dread grow in the pit of his stomach. Jaskier was here. And still clearly not here. And clearly… not alive.

_ Please  _

Geralt could barely speak, his throat suddenly too tight. Still, he did his best to sound reassuring. "It'll be alright. I will find you. I promise."

_ Cold _

_...o cold _

The voice was drifting away again as the potion's effect diminished. But Geralt could almost swear he saw a hand reach weakly towards him, before the shadow too disappeared.

Geralt broke camp in a haze. He felt numb in a way he hadn't done for a long time, maybe ever. Sleeping had been out of the question, and he had wanted to leave right away to search for Jaskier. But Roach needed rest, so he forced himself to wait until the first light of dawn appeared at the horizon.

Every bone in his body told him to hurry, but he knew that it wouldn't make a difference. He had seen Jaskier's ghost. Jaskier was dead. And he wouldn't be any less dead however fast Geralt ran to him.

Still, he couldn't wait too long either. He was quite sure he would go mad if he had to stay in that clearing longer than absolutely necessary, staring at the spot where the ghost had been.

Where Jaskier had been. 

Following the road, his thoughts drifted, refusing to bend to his will. He tried to think of practical things. Where Jaskier would have liked to be buried. How Geralt best could get in touch with his family. Would Jaskier  _ want  _ him to tell his family?

But his thoughts wrapped themselves together with his (supposedly) non existent emotions, refusing all logic.

He felt responsible. He knew how fragile humans were. He shouldn't have let Jaskier leave. Nevermind that they had split up several times during the years, only to meet up again later, and everything had been fine. Nevermind that there would always be danger, even if he had followed Jaskier everywhere and not let him out of his sight. Geralt should still have been there. To protect him. To save him. But he hadn't been, and now it was too late.

He tried not to wonder how long Jaskier had been dead. He hoped with every fiber in him that it hadn't been long. Geralt was very familiar with the dead, both newly passed and those who had gone before. It didn't bother him too much. But the thought of finding Jaskier's half decayed body, or his bones gnawed clean by animals, was almost enough to make him nauseous. He couldn't bear having that being the last way he saw Jaskier. Having all that music and sunshine and laughter forced away by something so grotesquely not Jaskier. Better then, maybe, to not find him at all. 

That thought brought him back to reality, as he realized that he didn't know if he actually  _ could  _ find Jaskier. Whether he wanted to or not. If the dream was of Jaskier's last moments, he knew that the bard was in a small cave in a forest. But  _ how _ would Geralt be able to find that cave? It felt far too close to impossible.

Needing a moment to think this through and try to remember as much as possible about the dream, maybe there had been a landmark he hadn't noticed, he pulled Roach to a stop.

Or tried to. 

Just like the day before, Roach refused to do as he told her. She just kept going. If anything, she seemed to speed up a little.

"Roach," he growled, pulling the reins. "Stop. I have to figure this out. You saw him, he…"

His words trailed off as that thought sunk in. Roach had seen Jaskier, before Geralt did. She had refused to take the right path when Geralt had wanted to. She had been more agitated than usual, ever since they left town the day before. And as they had stopped to make camp for the night, she had been more than clear with her wish to continue on. Even now, when Geralt had been lost in thought of Jaskier, Roach had led them on along the road, seemingly with no hesitation.

"You… still see him? You know where he is?"

Roach just huffed in answer.

To anyone else the thought might have been laughable, but Geralt was old enough, and knew Roach well enough, to know not to disregard it. So he let her decide the way. As it now stood, he didn't know where to start searching anyway. And he trusted Roach. She would know what to do. 

It was late afternoon when they finally stopped. Roach had clearly gone at a pace that was fast but still one she could keep up for a long time. Geralt wasn't sure if he should be relieved or worried at her unwillingness to take a break.

She looked at him with seriousness in her brown eyes as Geralt dismounted, and then turned her gaze towards the side of the narrow path they were on. No path or trail went in there, so Geralt had to continue alone. Grabbing a cloak to wrap Jaskier's body in, he gave Roach a pat.

"Thank you." His voice almost cracked as he spoke. 

Roach didn't answer, just butted her head against him, shoving him towards the trees.

Part of Geralt didn't want to go, pictures of Jaskier's rotting face swirling in his mind, but he couldn't leave his friend. After everything they'd been through, after every insult Geralt had told the bard, after every word of friendship and happiness he  _ hadn't  _ told him, the least Geralt could do was make sure Jaskier's last resting place was somewhere nice, warm, beautiful. He still didn't know where, but he  _ did _ know Jaskier wouldn't want to lay in a lonely cave. Not after all the times the bard had complained about the cold. No, he deserved better.

He deserved not to be dead.

It didn't take Geralt too long to find the cave. Roach had really brought him as close as she could. He reminded himself to buy her as much oat as he could afford. And sugar. He had always complained when Jaskier gave her sugar cubes, sneaked out from his pockets as if Geralt wouldn't notice, but with their companion gone it felt wrong to not keep as much of Jaskier as he could. Even if it meant a spoiled horse.

Steeling himself against what he would find, Geralt entered the cave.

It was small, cold and a bit damp. Casting igni, Geralt immediately saw Jaskier. All his worries turned out to be unfounded, thankfully.

The bard was laying on his side, partly curled up as if to try and keep himself warm. His eyes were closed, and there were no signs of neither decay nor animal activity. In fact, Geralt could almost have convinced himself that Jaskier was merely sleeping, if not for his skin being almost white.

The witcher slowly stepped closer to the body, sitting down beside it, and gently pulled Jaskier into his arms.

And then he broke. 

The numbness that had encapsulated him since he first sight of the ghost disappeared, replaced by shattering sorrow and heartache. Geralt felt tears stream down his face, but didn't even try to dry them. In that tiny cave, where no one could see him, he allowed himself to cry.

"I'm so sorry." His voice was a ragged whisper in the soft curls of Jaskier's hair. "I should have been there. If I had known… I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner." His whole body shook as he held the bard closer, his body limp and cold in Geralt's arms. "And I'm sorry for what I said. Everything about you being annoying or… or telling you to be quiet. It's too silent without you there. I always miss your singing… miss you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I… I always felt better with you around, it was just easier to… But I shouldn't have-"

He cut off the words so fast he almost bit his own tongue. He had felt something. Something so small and faint he was almost convinced he had imagined it. Sitting completely still, barely daring to breath, he waited.

And then, when he had almost given up, he felt it again. The smallest puff of air against his throat.

Jaskier was breathing.

Already convinced of what he would find, Geralt hadn't even listened for a heartbeat. But now when he did, it was there. Faint and uneven and almost slower than his own, but it was there.

Jaskier was alive!

Afraid that his precious life would slip away any moment, Geralt sat frozen for a second, not daring to move. But if he wanted Jaskier to keep living, they  _ had _ to move.

Carefully wrapping the bard in the cloak, now not a corpse shroud but an attempt to warm the man up, Geralt hurriedly left the cave. The forest outside had started to darken, but his enhanced senses allowed him to still run back to Roach. She nosed against Jaskier's face, puffing warm air against his cold skin.

The spot was hardly an ideal place to set up camp, but it would have to do. Not wanting to waste time searching for firewood, but still needing both the light and warmth, Geralt simply set a smaller bush on fire and gently put Jaskier down beside it. The bard was far too cold. Geralt could almost hear him complain about stiff fingers and the apparently very dire threat to his toes.

But it wasn't just the cold. Worried what he would find, Geralt searched Jaskier for injuries.

His hands were a bit scraped from falling, and he had several smaller cuts from branches scratching him as he fled through the forest. And on his left side, just above his hip bone, there was a bloody tear in his clothes. With the nightmare in mind, Geralt was pretty sure what he would find even before he lifted the shirt.

A thin red line curved over Jaskier's hip. It was barely more than the scratches from the branches, and what little blood there had been hadn't even made its way through all the layers of clothes. But the skin around it was a bluish grey, with dark lines winding their way outwards from the wound.

The venom of an arachas was strong enough that even a small amount would kill any man. It was a miracle that the bard was still alive. Had the scratch been even a little bit longer or deeper, Geralt would have arrived too late.

And it might still be too late. Jaskier needed a healer, preferably a mage. But the closest town was the one Geralt had left two days ago, and even if there had been a place closer, Jaskier was in no state to travel. Geralt could have dealt with an injury, even a serious one. But he was helpless in the face of this venom. There was no potion he could brew from herbs in the forest, though he doubted he would have the time anyway. And his own potions were made for witchers. Giving that to Jaskier was more likely to kill him than to help him.

But if he did nothing there would be no chance at all.

Not giving himself time to talk himself out of it, Geralt retrieved his potions from Roach saddle bag. If there was even the smallest chance to save Jaskier, he had to take it.

Searching the bottles, he pulled out Golden Oriole. There wasn't much left of it, but it didn't matter. He didn't need much.

Carefully, he lifted Jaskier's head. He hadn't moved at all, not made any sounds, and Geralt had to stop and listen to see if he was still alive. But the breath was there, shallow and uneven.

Geralt still hesitated for a moment, and then leaned down to press a soft kiss against Jaskier's cold forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, carefully putting the bottle to Jaskier's lips, and letting a small amount trickle in.

He rubbed soft fingers along Jaskier's throat to try and make him swallow the potion. He wasn't sure if the bard actually succeeded, but at least he didn't choke on it either. After a moment, Geralt fetched a clean cloth, dripped a little bit of the potion on it and pressed it against the poisoned scratch. Even if Jaskier didn't manage to actually swallow anything, the potion would hopefully seep into the wound.

Sitting as close to the fire as safely possible, Geralt carefully pulled Jaskier into his lap, letting him lean back against him while Geralt wrapped his arms around him, both for warmth and to keep him steady.

Barely a minute had passed, when the first shudder appeared. It was small enough that it could almost have been mistaken for Jaskier shivering from the cold, but it was quickly followed by more, each one growing stronger. Soon every muscle in Jaskier's body seemed to cramp and seize as the potion wared against the venom, and Geralt had to put a piece of leather in the bard's mouth. The last thing they needed was for Jaskier to survive, only to have bitten his own tongue off.

The witcher whispered soothing words against Jaskier's temple, holding him steady while the weak body shook and trembled. Geralt could only pray to whatever gods were listening that Jaskier would make it through.

At one time, Jaskier seemed to regain some level of consciousness. A ragged, slightly longer, breath was forced out of him, and Geralt was pretty sure it would have been a scream if the man had had strength enough for it. But he slipped away again before he could make any other kind of sound. With the pain he very clearly was in, Geralt supposed that unconsciousness was better.

Night had fallen properly when the horrible cramps slowly ebbed away. By that time, Jaskier seemed more alive than he had done in the cave. However, his heartbeat was now a little too fast, and his earlier coldness had turned into the heat of a fever. Geralt was just happy that the bard was at least a couple of steps away from death's door.

Moving Jaskier so he wasn't as close to the bush, which was now mostly a smoldering stump, Geralt set about making a more proper camp. Roach had waited patiently the whole time, but was clearly relieved to have the saddle removed. Geralt promised her every kind of luxury and pampering he could think of, as soon as they reached a city or town.

He kept an ear on Jaskier's breathing while he collected firewood, ready to hurry back at the smallest change. But the bard kept breathing. Not as steady as Geralt would have liked, but most definitely stronger than before.

After rekindling the fire, moving Jaskier so he lay on top of the bedroll, and finally getting some food for himself, Geralt felt exhausted. All the fear and grief and then desperate hope had drained him. But he would not sleep. Jaskier was far from alright, and the thought of nodding off only to wake to find Jaskier dead was enough to make the earlier fear flare up again. Instead he spent the night trying to give the bard some comfort with a wet cloth over his forehead. And moved him closer or further from the fire, depending on his temperature.

In the early morning hours, Jaskier finally stirred. His long eyelashes fluttered slightly, and he let out a pained little sound.

Geralt was by his side in a second, stroking sweaty hair from the bard's face.

"Don't try to speak. I've got you."

Jaskier nodded. It was such a small motion that it was barely visible, but it still filled Geralt with relief, knowing that the bard was awake and able to hear and understand him. Gently lifting Jaskier's head, he held a cup of water to his lips.

"Slowly."

He wasn't surprised at the other's thirst. He didn't know how long Jaskier had been laying in the cave, and even if it had only been a short time, he had also spent the night burning up from the fever. A fever which, thankfully, seemed to have broken.

Putting the cup back down, Geralt moved so Jaskier once again could lean back against him. Before, he might have been embarrassed by such closeness. But his fear and grief had crumbled that wall enough for him to not care anymore. He wanted Jaskier close.  _ Needed  _ him close. If asked, he could have blamed the need to carefully monitor the younger man's health. But it wasn't just that. He had almost lost Jaskier. Had been convinced he  _ had _ lost him. And in the light of a second chance, it was much harder to ignore how much he actually cared for the man.

The pain was evident in Jaskier's face, but as he settled against Geralt's chest, the lines smoothed out a little. The witcher kept one arm securely around him, while gently petting his soft brown hair. Though he himself felt a bit awkward, worried over Jaskier's feelings regarding his actions, it still felt nice, comfortable. And as Jaskier slipped into sleep, Geralt decided that it must mean that the bard at least didn't  _ dislike _ being this close.

____

As soon as Jaskier opened his eyes, the bright sunlight made him squeeze them shut again. He groaned slightly at being blinded, and then again when he registered how the rest of him felt.

"Jaskier?"

A blessed shadow fell over his face, and he cracked an eye open again. Geralt's hair seemed streaked with gold and silver in the sunshine. He looked beautiful. And worried.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've been run over by an army." His voice was hoarse, and he gratefully drank from the water Geralt offered him. "I dreamt about you," he mumbled, a small smile on his lips. "You were in a forest. You and Roach. And I… I…" His smile faded. "I wished that you would come… And you did?"

"I don't think that was a dream," the witcher said, carefully placing a calloused hand on Jaskier's forehead. Right. He had been having a fever, hadn't he?

"What do you mean?"

Geralt pulled back his hand, making Jaskier miss the touch. "What do you remember?"

Jaskier was silent for a moment while he tried sorting through his memories, one fuzzier than the next. "I… There was a… something. Hideously ugly, whatever it was. I remember… running from it. It hadn't really reached me, and I was so relieved because it had these very sharp nasty looking… No, it… did get me. Did it? But not enough to worry about. And I ran, and I hid, and… I hid, right?"

Geralt nodded. "Yes. I found you in a cave."

"Right. Right, the cave. And then I must have… slept? Because I saw you. And everything hurt, and I just wanted so badly for you to find me… What do you mean that wasn't a dream? You weren't in the cave."

"No. I…" The witcher hesitated, as if he wasn't sure how to describe something. "I saw you, at my camp. But you weren't really there. I could barely hear you, or see you. I thought…" He went silent again, and Jaskier was sure he heard Geralt's voice nearly break just before. It must have been a really bad fever.

Gently, he took Geralt's hand in his own, and his gaze drifted towards the cup of water as he tried to remember more. "The cup…"

Geralt looked slightly started. "What?"

"Everything hurt, and I needed your help, but you didn't hear me. I couldn't wake you up. And there was this cup of water, and I… I pushed it over." Jaskier couldn't help but chuckle. "Strange dream, since you're always such a light sleeper."

"That wasn't a dream either. That cup… It tipped over, waking me up."

It was Jaskier's turn to look almost started.

Using far more words than usual, Geralt told him about the last couple of days. Told him about the nightmares and about Roach, about Jaskier's ghost and the way he had given Jaskier one of his potions even though it could have killed him. Jaskier listened to all of it, his eyes growing ever bigger. 

"You were in so much pain," Geralt said, by now holding Jaskier's hand so tight that it was almost painful. "But I didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry."

Jaskier shook his head, exasperated, and smiled up at the other man. "You stupid witcher. Why are you apologising? You found me, you saved my life!"

"But I hurt you."

"And if you hadn't, I would have been dead instead. I much prefer pain to death."

"I should have been there though. I should have-"

"No. Stop." It hurt, but Jaskier still forced himself to sit up so he could easier meet Geralt's eyes. "You saved me! I don't know how all this happened, with me being a ghost but still not dead. But whatever the case, I only remember dreaming of you, wishing for you. And you managed to both find me out here in… wherever! But you also managed to pull me back from, what sounds like, the brink of death. You can't blame yourself for not guarding me every second of every day, and you can't blame yourself for temporarily hurting me. I refuse to let you! If I had a broken arm, would you blame yourself for causing me pain when setting it? No. So don't-"

He was suddenly interrupted by Geralt's lips against his own, though the witcher quickly drew back again when Jaskier was too surprised to react in time.

"I'm sorry. I just-"

Jaskier didn't care what he was going to say. Instead he leaned in to kiss Geralt back. After only a moment, the witcher's big hands were in his hair and on his hip, and Jaskier shuddered as the touch spread warmth throughout his whole body. However, he was still somewhat weak after his near death experience, and it was far too soon he had to break the kiss.

"I missed your voice," Geralt mumbled, his forehead resting against Jaskier's. "It was so quiet. And I thought I'd have to live with that quiet forever. I thought that I had lost you, and all I could think about was everything I… I never said to you."

Jaskier wasn't sure if he was still breathing. Or maybe this was all a fever hallucination. But Geralt felt warm and real and comforting, and he moved a little closer so he could cuddle up against that broad chest.

"Such as?" he asked hopefully, finding Geralt's hand again. After everything that had happened, it was too comfortable not to hold it.

"Such as that I… miss you every time we're apart," Geralt answered, his voice low and with a hint of embarrassment. "That I like your singing, even though it irritates me sometimes. That I…" He took a deep breath, as if to gather courage. "...love you."

Jaskier stared at him as he, for once, was lost for words while Geralt talked. He realized his mistake as soon as the witcher looked as if he was about to flee. Quickly, he wrapped his arms around Geralt's neck and kissed him again.

"I love you too," he whispered, as he once again needed to breathe. "You don't know how long I've wished for you to say that. If I had known almost dying was all it took…"

Geralt's arms tightened around him. "Don't even joke about that."

"I'm sorry, darling." He kissed Geralt again before resting his head on his shoulder as tiredness pulled at him. "I think I'll sleep some more."

Geralt nodded, placing a soft kiss in his hair. "You sleep. I've got you."


End file.
